Misery Starts With False Happiness
by Annabeyonce
Summary: They were finally together. "It was going to be great." But winter break doesn't bring what is promised. How will she cope?


_And all I've seen since eighteen hours ago_  
_Is green eyes and freckles and your smile_  
_In the back of my mind making me feel right_

_- Everything Has Changed, Taylor Swift ft. Ed Sheeran_

* * *

She didn't mean to do it. She really didn't. She didn't mean to smile uncontrollably and nervously say goodnight and sink down the other side of her cabin door after he left, twirling her hair between her nimble fingers. She didn't mean to go all head-over-heels in love teenage girl on everyone. But, of course, she did.

She had an excuse though, right? He was _Percy Jackson_. The boy she'd had ridiculous feelings for since she was twelve. The feeling of his lips on hers once again did these kinds of things to her. The feeling of finally being with him gave her these feelings. And there was nothing wrong with it, right? Nothing wrong with the fact that she had waited for this for five years. Nothing wrong with the fact that she'd thought her life was over when he'd disappeared for two weeks last summer. Nothing wrong with the fact that he'd been with another girl that whole time and she'd been down to murder the chick.

Nope. Nothing wrong with that.

But now _she had him._ He was hers, and she was his. And nothing could change that. And now it was perfectly okay to hold his hand and hug him and kiss him. On the lips. It was okay now. Acceptable, if you will. So she ignored some of the disapproving looks her siblings gave her. She accepted the "Congratulations!" she got from some people. She would hold his hand whenever she got the chance. She would hug him. And _oh_, would she kiss him.

And she remembered those sea green eyes, soft lips, his strong hands, the tousle of his inky hair. Those not-noticeable-but-only-to-her freckles on the tip of his nose and the tops of his cheeks. She remembered the way he swung his sword, the way he held his focus whether he was in a fight, or solving an algebra problem. His mother and her blue chocolate chip cookies. The way he always smelled like the tide rolling onto the warm sand at dusk. And she will never forget the way he looked at her under the moonlight in that canoe lake, like he had just won the lottery. No, she would never forget that.

* * *

It is month five. Another thirty or so days. _Without him_, a smug voice whispers in the corners of her deteriorating mind. It has been one of those nights when she can't take it anymore, and nightfall brings the Moon with a side of hopelessness. Her tears are quiet tonight. She has learned to control them in the recent months. She has to, she doesn't want these people worrying about her. The last thing Annabeth wants is to seem weak._Oh, but she is_. Without _him_ she is. She doesn't want anyone to see her like _this_, unraveled on the bathroom floor at four in the morning, with thin bones and glazed eyes and swallowed up in one of his worn, old sweatshirts. She clutches photos of him and she. The first picture is one Connor Stoll took while spying on them with the rest of the camp on the night they got together. Connor happened to be fighting with Clarisse at the time and the picture was blurry, but you can make out them sitting at the Poseidon table, Percy fumbling over his words, Annabeth laughing beside him. She glances at the picture quite a lot, and she is puzzled as to why. Why torture herself like this? Easy. Because she doesn't want to forget. She sets the photograph gingerly on the fuzzy blue rug on her bathroom floor. _His favorite color._ Another tear slips from her grasp, down her cheek, hitting the linoleum like a fallen crystal.

She shuffles her deck of photos.

This other picture is of the aftermath. She studies the campers around them, all smiling, most cheering and some mid wolf-whistle. She studies Chiron just exiting the Big House, trying to figure out what all the fuss is about. His face here is frozen into a look of astonishment, joyous and sort of surprised, but it is a knowing sort of surprise. On the sand by the lake, Juniper is clutching her hands over her heart with her head tilted and donning a winning smile. Grover stands proudly next to her with his fuzzy arms crossed over his chest and his face set in a smug, _I knew it_, look. Her gaze shifts to the center of the picture, saving best for last. She is sopping wet, and then there is Percy, completely dry. They are holding hands, which is sort of an awkward sight at this point in time, when they weren't so sure of each other. Of this new _them_. And there is a pinkish tint to both of their cheeks and their smiles are the nervous kind, like when you attend a family gathering and your parents force you to talk to a cousin of yours. Sort of like an _I know you, but I don't_ really _know you_. Her head is down but her shining grey eyes are on him, taking in the moment. The luminous moonlight gives her hair a lighter hue, more pastel blonde than golden. Her thumb is hooked on her right jean pocket, a nervous gesture coming from her. She then takes a better look at Percy. His hand is on the back of his neck and he is looking over at her. His nose is scrunched up in an awkward laugh, amazed at how quickly things have changed. Annabeth's grimace loosens a bit.

Annabeth shuffles the deck again.

This last picture is taken by someone else, yet again. Probably by some of the Aphrodite kids. He is walking her to her cabin. _Oh no_. She swallows hard, her eyes stinging. _This is the night he was taken._ She knows this scene all too well. Percy's arm is around her waist, his palm resting on her jutting hip. She carries Daedalus's laptop, filled with her plans for the future layout of camp and Olympus. They are talking, she can tell. But Percy is looking at her, once again. And she sees it. It's in his eyes, his smile, his features._I will never forget the way he looks at me_.

The promise seems far away, as if it is a galaxy, light years away. And she is an astronaut trying in vain to reach that galaxy, because she can only go as far as the Moon. She can only go as far as _I will wake another day, and I will keep going_. Because remembering is painful, and sometimes hopeless. It isn't as if thinking of him can bring him back. But as long as she can keep that galaxy in mind, she will know it is there. He is there. And as long as she can reach the Moon, she will be okay. As long as she can pick up her pieces on her own, she will live. As long as she can keep getting up when knocked down with memories of him, yes, she will live.

_No, she will never forget the way he looks at her._


End file.
